I was 18. A drama in two acts. Act I. - The Event

Trouble surrounded me like the dust that circulates around PigPen. It wasn't that I instigated things. I was a product of my environment and did what I could to get by. And please don't feel sorry for me, I was a rich kid with rich kid problems. I was smart, but didn't have any kind of work ethic. I was fun but grooming a serious personality disorder since high school. But an incident in what would be known as my 'First Freshman Year' in Minnesota escalated my already tenuous situation.. I became a slave to my eating disorder and hardley passed any classes.

As happens among college students, there was a party. I attended said party, and as I was wont to do, I drank a good deal and talked to everyone. I was very social! I'd been to the big U of M game the day before (my parents were alumni) and was smitten with a particular player. Speaking with several young men, I shared with them my love of the game and desire to meet said player. As luck would have it, they would be leaving the party to go see said player at another party, would I like to come with???

I will have you know, I informed my next of kin that indeed I was going into a car with these men to a secondary location. I was cleared to go.

In the car I was the only girl. Arriving at the secondary location I was already pretty drunk, but I could see we had to thread between the bodies of sleeping people to get a back room. There I was alone with my host, who's name I had known up until I try to summon it now. He is very hospitable. Offers me tea. We look at family pictures from his home far away. I ask when I will be meeting the 'famous' football player. I don't remember the excuse that was told...

More pictures. More stories of his impoverished upbringing. He lies me back on the futon and kisses me. I push him off and say no. He placates me by saying 'they will be here shortly' and 'don't you like me? Am I not kind?" So I acquiesce. I accept kisses. But then kisses turn to something more. At this point I am tired, my will is weak. I let him explore my body. He rubs me... He finds my clitoris. He inserts his finger. I have given up. I know that I made a mistake. I am only waiting to collect my wits.

Suddenly what was a finger inside me feels more like a penis. At this point my legs have recharged and get in there and literally launch my would-be rapist off my body. I jump off the futon and run out the door. I thread my way carefully around the bodies of sleeping party goers and try not to slam the porch door as I leave.

As I run out, I see my assaulter come to the door in his underwear and run back in to get changed. I run like hell.

I ran blindly not knowing exactly what to do. All I had on me was my checkbook (this was the days before cell phones). I found a church but all the doors were locked. But down the street were emergency lights for an ER! I ran as fast as a could. I got there but the doors were also locked. I heaved and literally forced them open. It was not the normal ER entry, so the guard asked me what was going on. I said a man had assaulted me and chased me. He asked if I'd like to be examined, but the adrenaline said no and I ran out of there.

I encountered a teen on a bike who led me to a 7 Eleven where I could call a taxi service that accepts checks. I knew the name of the person who's party I had originally been at and looked their address up in the phone book (we all had land lines back then). I ended up taking a cab back to the party and "sleeping" a few hours until morning just to awaken and go out for brunch with my family as if nothing had never happened.

That was the very beginning of my first semester of college. I was a music/english double major. I basically sucked in all my classes that term. My only saving grace was my brother's friend Mark who would take me out to happy hour from time to time. But when things became physical between us... I. Could. Not. Deal. And packed my stuff and called my sister to bring me home at the end of the semester.

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Meet The Blogger

Angela Soriano

Hi! I'm Angela Soriano, longtime resident of Irving Park. I originally hail from the Great Plains, but have called Chicago home for the past 25 years. I enjoy languages (I speak Spanish and German), playing piano, and reading. I am also trying really hard to stay paleo. When I'm not at my computer, you can usually find me walking my pitbull mix, Kyla, around the neighborhood.